


Catalyst

by wildandflowering



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandflowering/pseuds/wildandflowering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If this was the night and the place he would die, then so be it.  He would die with honor as a samurai who fought for what he believed in and for what he wanted to protect.  Maybe some would not see all of his actions as forgivable, but he himself could pass on with the belief that he had done better than most men.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Even so...</i>
</p>
<p>A retelling of Aburano-Kouji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. Chaos in a fight was normal, of course, especially in an ambush, and Shinpachi had been prepared for that. He had collected himself and readied his spirit to do what had to be done in order for the Shinsengumi to come out of the conflict with victory behind them. He had done the same thing multiple times. This wasn’t new to him.

Neither was the ringing of steel as blades clashed in the moonlight or the way he would _just barely_ slip on fallen blood or how his mouth turned dry as he took in breaths through his lips. Even the startling echo of gunshots, a noise he had grown accustomed to only recently, had become almost expected in an engagement.

For the most part, Shinpachi thrived on the chaos. The adrenaline pumped throughout his body, as if it took over his own beating heart, raw energy surging into his arms and legs instead of blood. It always felt _good_ and he loved the power he could exert because of it. It was pure strength he had perfected over the years, his pride, and he would be damned if anyone was able to get past that, get past _him_.

So when there was a sharp crack of gunfire and then, almost exactly at the same time, an unbearable pain blooming in his side like flowers of fire, Shinpachi didn’t know what to do for a moment. He’d been wounded before, not just in kenjutsu practice, but with an actual blade, but a bullet?

A bullet felt so different.

As one hand pressed to his side, hot blood seeping out from the wound, Shinpachi fell to a knee. He couldn’t stop that much, but he did manage to stab the tip of his sword into the ground before he had a chance to collapse completely. Unfortunately, at that moment one of the men they were fighting - and what clan he was from suddenly didn’t matter; Shinpachi was pissed at everyone - charged, sword raised and ready to swing down at Shinpachi’s shoulder for a killing blow. He grit his teeth and gripped his side harder.

Shinpachi was a samurai from a good family and he had always wanted to learn as much as he could about swordsmanship. This drive defined most of his life and he regretted none of it. Everything he had learned, all the friends he had made, the way he saw the world through his own observations...everything mattered in moments like these. He walked a fine line between living and dying every day and if he could help it he wouldn’t lose himself to the times like far too many men had.

If this was the night and the place he would die, then so be it. He would die with honor as a samurai who fought for what he believed in and for what he wanted to protect. Maybe some would not see all of his actions as forgivable, but he himself could pass on with the belief that he had done better than most men.

Even so...

A guttural cry tore its way from between chapped lips and Shinpachi pushed himself to his feet, wrenching his blade from the ground in time to block the attack meant to take his life. Again, the adrenaline flowed through his limbs, although not as powerfully as it usually did, and he managed to push the attacker’s sword away with his own strength, immediately drawing back to swing down and cut the man open diagonally from shoulder to hip. 

The man stumbled for a moment, then collapsed in a bloody heap at Shinpachi’s feet. Shinpachi himself staggered, the pain in his side continuing to burn, but he couldn’t lose control just yet. There was still life in him.

His attacks weren’t as efficient with just one hand on the hilt of his katana, but he was still able to cut down a few men before a new pain erupted across his back. With a gasp, he again fell to his knees, but knew that whoever had attacked him would still be at his back, so he blindly swung around, sword still in hand, and miraculously connected with flesh.

And bone.

His attacker cried out pitifully and Shinpachi finally focused on the scene. The blade of his sword had wedged into the forearm of the man. 

And of course, now that Shinpachi had him stuck there, he was even _more_ pissed off. He spoke, teeth still clenched from the pain. “Attacking a man from behind, eh? You cowardly son of a bitch.” With a cry of his own, Shinpachi then ripped the blade from the man’s arm and swung at the nearest leg, slicing through the muscle and dropping him. The man had lost grip on his own weapon, but Shinpachi had no mercy.

Angling his sword horizontally, he stabbed into the man’s side, finally killing him.

No further attacks came immediately, probably at the mere sight of an animal cornered, so to speak, but something bothered Shinpachi more than his wounds.

Where was Sano?

Once again pushing himself to unsteady feet, Shinpachi scanned the bloody scene. It had grown slightly quieter and more bodies - some clad in the familiar blue haori, some not - littered the ground. Nearly everywhere he stumbled, he stepped on some part of a body; sometimes it was still attached.

Then, there, just a few feet away, a small arrangement of members of Sano’s squad stood in a protective circle. They would step away just enough to cut down an attacker and as Shinpachi slowly approached, he caught sight of Sano in the middle of the barrier of blues.

He sat on the ground, his own haori nearly dyed crimson. Shinpachi was afraid to ask how much of it was his own blood.

Upon seeing Shinpachi’s approach, some of the men moved aside so he could slip inside the circle, where he fell to his knees, instantly concerned about his best friend. “Sano...” Now that he was closer, he could see tears in the other man’s clothing, and it appeared that his legs had been targeted mercilessly. It was a horrible confirmation as to the owner of the blood.

Sano, however, just shook his head and leaned heavily upon his spear. “I’ll be fine. But Heisuke...” Shinpachi looked in the same direction as where Sano’s gaze lingered and once again when the men moved, he could see through the violence that still raged all around them and -

“ _Shit_.”

Sano let out a heavy breath. His wounds were beginning to take their toll. They needed to get out of there and soon. “I saw him get hit, but...but then they rushed me and I haven’t...been able to...” 

From the glimpses, Shinpachi could only really make out the bare bones of Heisuke’s condition, but he wasn’t moving and he had only a few Shinsengumi members around him - less than Sano, considering he was still seen as a defector at that point. Blood colored so much. Blood colored everything. “This wasn’t supposed to happen -”

Shinpachi stopped when Sano reached over and weakly gripped the edge of his sleeve. “He’ll have to take it.” What ‘it’ was needn’t be clarified; they both knew too well. “Sannan-san...sent a few vials with...one of our men.” Of course he had. It was a good idea, in one respect. Provide the ochimizu as a backup plan in case things went south.

Shinpachi wasn’t sure he wanted to imagine how much further in that direction things could get.

“I can’t walk yet, Shinpachi.” Sano dropped his hand from his friend’s sleeve almost limply. In the back of Shinpachi’s mind, the bitter truth that Sano may not walk again at all lingered. “Someone needs to be there for him. When he changes.” 

A moment passed, but then Shinpachi nodded and got back up, yet again. As the battle dragged on around them, he realized he had started going numb. That wasn’t good.

But he had to get to Heisuke and with effort - and one of Sano’s men at his back - he made his way across the road, just in time to lower himself to Heisuke’s side and grip his friend’s hand with his own, blood-slicked as it was. “Heisuke. Hang in there, all right?” There was no answer, but he saw Heisuke’s lips curve slightly upwards, blood still leaking from his mouth. When Shinpachi looked at the man closest to Heisuke, he realized with horror that he held a vial of that damning red liquid, waiting for the word.

Shinpachi wanted to smack it out of his hand, wanted to let Heisuke die as a human, his last act one of a strange sort of redemption. He had come back to the Shinsengumi name, where he had always belonged.

But Shinpachi kept quiet. As much as he hated the ochimizu and the rasetsu and everything that ever went wrong with both, he knew that the Shinsengumi couldn’t last if they lost every last valuable member. And Heisuke was valuable, so valuable.

He squeezed Heisuke’s hand weakly and watched as the younger man nodded his acquiescence to his new fate. The man holding the vial quickly opened it and started to pour the liquid into Heisuke’s mouth -

“They’ve called for reinforcements!”

What?! Shinpachi looked toward the announcement and, to his horror, saw far too many ronin coming their way. The Shinsengumi had no such force. If they stayed here, they would all be slaughtered.

A death in battle would be a glorious one, of course it would, but to be utterly overwhelmed like this -

The enemy converged quickly upon the crossroads and as Shinpachi tried to rouse himself to painful action, he watched in horror as he saw a small group of them break the barrier of men around Sano.

He watched, frozen, as Sano moved too slowly to raise his spear in defense.

He watched, his heartbeat pounding deafeningly in his ears, as a sword easily pierced Sano’s chest, the blade emerging from his back.

Sano’s spear fell to the ground, quickly followed by his body.

For the next moments, everything went silent in Shinpachi’s mind. All he could do was stare at Sano’s body, willing him to move, to get up and laugh in the face of his attempted killer as he returned the favor. But no smile spread over those lips. His spear remained abandoned on the bloody ground.

_Sano, please._

Beside him Shinpachi began to register that Heisuke’s strength slowly came back to him and he heard, almost as if it were far away, a scream as his body changed from a human to a demon-but-not-a-demon, but Shinpachi still stared and Shinpachi still waited.

_Sano, don’t leave me. Don’t die._

Any second now...

He’d sit up and tear off his bindings and show off his scar from long ago and convince everyone he was invincible. He had survived death at his own hands once before, why should this time be different?

He had just been fine.

They had just spoken.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

In his peripheral vision, Heisuke regained control of his limbs and his mind and collected his katana and wakizashi from the men he had killed earlier, running off to cut down as many of the fresh combatants as he could, white hair shining triumphantly in the moonlight.

Sano’s eyes were still open, wide with surprise.

Then, as if he hadn’t been breathing that entire time, Shinpachi gasped in air thick with the stench of death and let it out as a pained scream. His back and side burned anew with the effort, but he didn’t care.

Sano wasn’t waking up.

Tears stubbornly tracked down his face and he gripped his sword tightly, ready to follow Heisuke into the fray, but as he stood up again, his legs buckled. He couldn’t fight in this state, but he couldn’t let everyone else die here, either.

He looked up, seeing more men falling, more of them were in blue than not.

They needed to retreat, even Sano’s men, even though it was against the code to live while their captain -

_Dammit, why are you dead?!_

They needed to get the hell out of there.

_You son of a bitch!_

Things weren’t supposed to go like this. Shinpachi looked around him and noticed that the man who had given the ochimizu to Heisuke was still there, though seconds away from rejoining the fight. And then, without thinking, Shinpachi reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist.

He was going to hate himself for this.

He was going to regret this forever.

But he had to. He _had_ to. The Shinsengumi needed to get out of this somewhat intact. If he had to make sacrifices of his own to see more men return home, then so be it.

“Do you have more?”

_Fuck fuck fuck._

“S-Sir...”

“Ochimizu. I know Sannan-san sent more than one.”

The man reached inside his haori and produced another vial and Shinpachi immediately grabbed it. His heart beat so quickly and so hard he was sure it would break through his chest. He stared at it, hand shaking as it continued to sink in that he was about to throw his humanity away.

Was he a hypocrite? He had been so adamant against the ochimizu before, but now...

Was he a coward? Just because things had gotten more difficult, did that mean he had to resort to such means?

“There’s too many of them! We can’t hold them!”

But the men... The men needed to survive. The _Shinsengumi_ needed to survive.

Shinpachi took out the stopper and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and pouring the liquid into his mouth. This was how it all ended. This was how he destroyed himself for the sake of others.

Once the vial was emptied, his body began to change, burning all over, but it was different from his wounds. No, this time it was like the burn of a good workout, the proof of his body adapting to newly-acquired strength. It was good, and yet it still hurt. It burned and then numbed his body, and Shinpachi could only cry out as his wounds knitted back together; the bullet that had been lost in his side was pushed forth and the mangled remnant fell to the ground.

He opened his eyes and everything was clearer, bright like day, and his hearing was so sharp that he could practically hear everyone breathe, or take their last breaths.

But best - or worst - of all, he could stand easily again, and his katana felt good in his hand and Shinpachi knew what he needed to do. Rushing past the bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike - and the all-too-still form of Sano - Shinpachi joined Heisuke in the slaughter.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Oops.
> 
> So I wrote this a couple years back just because I wanted to explore a way in which I thought Shinpachi would actually willingly (sort of) take the ochimizu and become a rasetsu. Which is why this is definitely an AU and why poor Sano had to snuff it.


End file.
